


He is the Cat (that walks by himself)

by elrhiarhodan



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Car Accident, Emotional complications, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Realism, Merlin & Harry Friendship, Pining, Prosthetics, That Damn Fox, Trickster Gods, Urban Fantasy, Veterinarians, background Roxy/Tilde, lepidopterist Harry, miscommunications, naked cats, not spies, the gods are not kind when they are helping you, transformations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-08-13 07:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20170348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/pseuds/elrhiarhodan
Summary: Magic happens in the oddest places.  Sometimes all it takes is a supremely ugly cat and a well-timed ice storm to bring two unlikely people together.





	He is the Cat (that walks by himself)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anarchycox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/gifts).

> Dear AnarchyCox - I hope you enjoy this story. I know how much you love magical realism and urban fantasy, and I hope this story pushes on those buttons hard.
> 
> Title is from the Rudyard Kipling Poem, The Cat That Walks By Itself - the first line of the poem: "When the moon gets up and the night comes, he is the Cat that walks by himself"

The forest is cool and green, filled with whispers that are as discernible as the mist. He walks quietly, carefully, stalking his prey - a male fox full grown, dark red with black markings on the tips of its ears. The hunter wants the pelt for his new bride; it will match the glory of her hair.

The fox is tricksy, and has lead the hunter through bogs and fens, but the hunter has the beast cornered against a stone wall too high for the fox to climb. The hunter notches an arrow and draws his bowstring. He says a prayer to the gods he believes in, tells the fox his death will be quick, and releases the bowstring.

At that moment, a lord of the forest comes crashing through the ferns, between the hunter and his prey. The arrow embeds in the hart's hindquarters and the beast lets out a terrify, pain-filled scream.

The hunter drops his bow and runs. He's shot a sacred hart, the holiest of animals, blessed and protected by all the lords of the earth and sky. His life is over, there will be no bride, no red-headed children playing around the fire, no grandchildren to ease him in his old age. He runs and is forsaken by men and gods alike.

The fox lets out a few yips and transforms into a young man. "Oh, that was great fun."

The hart, for its part in this game, is still on its knees. The arrow _hurts_. 

"Don't be such a whiner. You know I'll fix you up." The fox-man pulls out the arrow and frowns. This is something new - the arrow is tipped in metal, not stone, and the hart bleeds more than it should. He soothes the animal, stroking it's hindquarters, smearing blood and magic across the tawny hide. "There, there, all fixed."

The hart gets to its feet, lifts its majestic head topped with antlers as tall as the fox-man who just healed him It bells out a cry of warning and triumph before transforming into a man, too.

"That was not fun. You promised me fun."

"The hunter is gone from the forest, my friend."

"For now. The game has changed and they'll come back soon, not just in ones and twos, but many. They'll hunt and take without understanding the cost."

The fox-man nods. "But not today. Today we've won. And I've thought of another wondrous game."

"Do I have to be the great lumbering creature again?" The hart-man sighs, he always has to be the big one, while his brother - small and cunning - gets to become the undersized wolf that begs at a campfire, or a tiny forest cat that steals into tents and charms the women and girls into giving him milk and bread.

"You are what suits you, and you shouldn't slight Mother's blessings. You have her strength and power, and her cunning, too. You just like the soft things the mortals can give you.

"I like milk and bread. I like the warm fire and the hands of children stroking my head. I like the taste of meat cooked in the flames."

"You like the mortals!"

"I do, so long as they are not hunting me. Or cutting down the elder trees or pulling up the saplings."

"Then for our next game, you can be the dog wolf who gets to bed down with the humans next to their fire. How is that?"

"Wonderful. What will you be?"

"That's my secret." The fox-man smiles and all the birds in the forest burst into song.

Somewhere, a dire wolf howls in delight.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Harry, ye fecking idiot, what have ye done?" Merlin has the presence of mind to grab a torch before he goes hunting for the stupid hairless cat that has so few braincells it runs outside in the middle of an ice storm.

"Harry! Come here, Harry. Get yer ass back inside before ye catch yer death." Merlin walks down the block, swinging the torch from curb to curb, and trying like hell not to fall on the slippery pavement. It had rained on and off through the afternoon, then the temperature dropped and everything had frozen, turning the streets and sidewalks to glass. It's still bitter, and the combination of snow and ice is pelting Merlin's bare head, stinging into his eyes. He's going to get pneumonia from this, he knows it. But he can't leave Harry outside to catch his death. The damn thing has a coat that's little more than peach fuzz and starts sneezing if Merlin turns the heat down by two degrees.

"What are ye thinking, Harry? Running around in weather like this?" Maybe his tone's scaring the wee beastie, so Merlin tries a coddling voice. "Come out, sweetheart. I'll heat up yer supper. Aren't ye hungry? I've got a can of Fancy Feast with yer name on it."

But there's no responding meow or yowl or chirp. And that worries Merlin to no end. The stupid hairless murder hobo loves the crap, even though it's supposed to be bad for him. At least that's what Harry's told him. Harry the human, not Harry the cat. Cats, after all, don't talk. 

Somehow, Merlin had got suckered into being Harry the Cat's permanent cat sitter and occasional scratching post - which is pretty much a full-time gig, since Harry the Human is abroad more than half the year. He's not quite sure how that had happened, except that Merlin seems to be one of Harry the Human's very few friends. 

That perplexes Merlin. Harry Hart is a kind and gregarious man, despite his quirks. He's well-to-do in the way that most minor peers are, he has bizarre, but interesting hobbies. He can well speak on many subjects and has a way - at least to Merlin - of making everyone feel worthwhile. And yet, Harry seems to socialize only with Merlin when he's home in London. Or perhaps it's because Merlin only socializes with Harry. Perhaps Harry has some wild and exciting life that Merlin never gets to see.

Except that Merlin had once asked Harry why he'd chose to spend his Saturday evenings with a bald, bad-tempered Scotsman who's missing half a leg. Wouldn't he prefer the company of someone younger and prettier? 

Harry had smiled and said that he's well past the age of equating pretty with interesting and if Merlin's actually asking if Harry would prefer to be on a date that might lead to sex, well, sex hasn't been very interesting for a very long time. 

Merlin had snarked back that he hadn't been asking about sex. He knows that Harry's never been much interested in getting his dick wet. He's just well, concerned. 

Harry had laughed and reassured Merlin that there's nothing to be concerned about. He'd rather spend time with Merlin because Merlin's interesting, but if he's truly worried about Harry's social life, Merlin should know that he does occasionally have dinner with the gentleman who lives next door.

Merlin had just sighed and let the subject drop. He's known Harry since they'd been schoolboys at Fettes in Edinburgh, and honestly can't remember Harry ever being with anyone. Not even when they'd been at university together. He's been Merlin's friend for more than forty years, and Merlin still can't figure out why the handsome boy from an aristocratic English family had attached himself to a scholarship student from Stirling, but since they were both thirteen, Harry had been like glue, best friends despite their differences. Harry had been the one to convince Merlin to take the entrance exams for Oxford, applying to Balliol, studying anything and everything that had struck his fancy. And after they'd graduated, Harry had given him the push he'd needed to follow his dreams, instead of practicalities.

The decades have come and gone and Harry's still the biggest part of Merlin's life, even though he seems to be traveling for half the year and dumping whatever small and furry (or in the case of the damn cat he's now looking for, not-so-furry) companion that lives with him on Merlin to watch over. Maybe Merlin could have found a way to say 'no' to the petsitting obligations if Harry hadn't named each and every one of those cats and dogs after himself. Merlin is secretly charmed by that. Harry's ego isn't particularly huge, so it's not a kind of narcissism. It's more like Harry's finding a way of leaving a piece of himself with Merlin when he goes away, so Merlin, who doesn't have a social circle of any kind, won't be lonely.

But if Merlin doesn't find that damn cat, he's not going to have Harry the Human as a friend anymore. Harry the Cat's going to die if he's caught out in this icy weather for much longer.

Merlin's voice is hoarse from calling for Harry, he's exhausted, his stump is burning from the unaccustomed strain, but he can't give up. "Please, I beg you - the old gods and the new ones - just bring that fucking cat home safely."

But nothing happens, Harry doesn't magically appear and Merlin's about to turn around and start search his block again - there's no way the beast had gotten this far - when his mobile buzzes.

He's about to ignore it, but he can't. It might be Harry - the human, not the cat - and Merlin isn't going to be able to live with himself if it is.

He pulls out the phone and sees that it's an unknown number, but something tells him he needs to answer it.

"Merlin Adair speaking."

_"Hi, it's Doctor Unwin at the Bloomsbury Veterinary Clinic. You wouldn't happen to be missing something - someone - would you?"_

"Oh, please tell me ye have my fucking cat. That someone brought the asshole in to ye."

_"We do. But no one turned him in. I was about to close up for the night, and this great idiot showed up at the door, howling to be let in. He's now curled up on a heating pad, looking like a pharaoh's favorite concubine."_

Merlin chokes out a laugh. "Thank ye, doc. Can ye give me about twenty minutes to get there? The idiot ran out of the house and I've been search for him for an hour. I'll need to get back home and grab his carrier."

_"It's a misery out, how about I keep him with me overnight and you can pick him up in the morning."_

As nice as the offer sounds, Merlin finds himself reluctant to accept the offer. "Harry's a strange beast, he doesn't do well in unfamiliar situations."

_"Yeah, I remember the fuss he'd made when you had to board him that one time. But I have an idea - how about I drop him off? You don't live that far from me."_

"Ye know where I live?"

_"Well, we have your address on file. And your telephone number - although I did pull this number from the pet microchip registry, even though I recognized Harry. He's pretty unforgettable. And it honestly isn't a problem to bring him home to you."_

Merlin lets out a sigh of relief. "Aye, I'd really appreciate it. I'm just about spent from running around half of Bloomsbury."

Dr. Unwin asks, _"Where are you?"_

Merlin looks around and tries to orient himself. "About a block from Russell Square, on Woburn Street."

_"There's a coffee shop on the corner, across from the park. You could wait there - I'd have to pass by to get to your flat. I could pick you up and save you the walk back. The weather is brutal."_

"Ye're a saint, Doctor Unwin. Hope yer wife knows that." Merlin wants to bite his tongue. He might have found the young veterinarian too handsome for his own peace of mind, but that's no one's business.

_"No wife, and more to the point, no husband."_

It must be the cold and the exhaustion, because Merlin doesn't seem to have any control over his tongue. "The pretty lass with the ponytail and the take-no-prisoners attitude isna yer wife?"

_"You mean Roxy? Oh, hell no. She's my best mate."_

"Thought you referred to her as yer partner." Why, oh why, is Merlin belaboring this?

_"Partner in crime and veterinary stuff. She's one of the other doctors in the clinic. Her own wife would have something to say about any other sort of relationship between me and Roxy."_

Merlin sees the sign for the coffee shop and manages to move just that much quicker. "I'm at the Caffè Nero now. Can ye ring me when ye pull up?"

_"Will do, and go get warm. Harry needs you healthy."_

"If I catch my death from pneumonia, it'll be that arsehole's fault."

Doctor Unwin chuckles and tells him he'll see him in about ten minutes.

Merlin's actually rather familiar with this particular Caffè Nero, since he works just a few blocks away, at the Warburg Institute. The barista is a familiar face, one of the MPhil students who had taken a seminar with Merlin last semester. "Professor Adair, you're in quite late, is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, Marco. Just got caught in the weather. Can I get a small cup of Earl Gray, splash of cream and some honey?"

"Of course."

Merlin calls up the cafe's on-line app from his phone and uses it to pay. The scanner chirps as it registers the payment and Merlin takes the blissfully warm cup and goes to a table closest to the door. He has no idea what kind of vehicle Doctor Unwin drives, and it's certainly way too dark and miserable to actually see more than headlights reflecting in the wet streets. At least it's not snowing, although the forecast is leaning that way.

Merlin's just about finished with the tea when his phone buzzes with an incoming text. _Outside, red Ford wagon. Harry's anxious to see you._

Every bone in his body aching, Merlin heaves himself out of the chair and slowly makes his way out the door. There's a beat up old Ford estate wagon at the curb, but Merlin can't tell if it's red or black or hot pink with orange polka dots. Doctor Unwin lowers the window and Merlin can't help but smile at the young man's earnest - and handsome - face. 

"Cat's in the back, so you can ride shotgun."

Merlin gets into the car and relaxes into the seat. The car smells like wet dog, which isn't surprising, given its owner's occupation. "Thank ye, lad. I can't tell ye how much I appreciate this."

"No worries, happy to help. It's just so strange that your cat managed to get all the way to my clinic in this weather."

"Harry actually isna my cat," Merlin feels compelled to explain.

"No? But your name's on the registry and everything."

"Aye, it's a bit of a strange story. Harry's owner is my closest friend and vice-versa. He does a lot of traveling - he's gone about half the year - and so I get the pleasure of cat-sitting for extended periods of time. My friend figured that if Harry ever got lost, it would be easier to have me down as the contact, since I dinna travel all that much these days." 

"I guess that makes sense." Doctor Unwin navigates through the slick streets with a steady hand on the wheel, and soon enough, they're in front of Merlin's house, and someone definitely has been looking out for Merlin because there's a parking spot right at his door.

Doctor Unwin pulls in and turns off the engine. "Let me take the carrier in, make sure Harry's survived the trip with no ill effects."

"Ye're a kind man, Doctor." Merlin means that, he doesn't know anyone else who'd have gone out of their way like this. He looks into the back seat and sees the carrier, with Harry's eyes glowing greenly in the dim light. "And ye, ye're a feckin' bastard, Harry, but I love ye anyway." 

Harry lets out a sedate chirp and both men laugh.

Merlin is careful as he makes his way up the steps. His stump is feels like it's on fire and frankly, if he fell now, he might just lie on the pavement until the spring thaw. But he makes it to the front door and unlocks it; the warmth in the foyer is so delicious it's almost orgasmic. Doctor Unwin follows right behind with the carrier.

"What do ye need, Doctor?"

"Please, call me Eggsy. Do you have a place where I can set the carrier? Don't want to let Harry out and have him run off and then have to drag him out." 

"The kitchen will be good." Merlin wonders about the name "Eggsy" but it feels rude to ask.

Eggsy must have sensed his curiosity, and explains. "My da used to call me his little Egg, so it kind of stuck."

"Ah. And ye can call me Merlin. Which isn't a nickname. My parents were just a little strange." Merlin takes Eggsy into the kitchen, which is Merlin's pride and joy. It's open and airy, with an enormous center island. "Ye can put the carrier there." Merlin goes to a cupboard in the mudroom and takes out a towel. "Here, ye can put the bastard on this, so he doesn't catch a chill from the marble on his naked butt."

Eggsy spreads the towel out, then opened the carrier. Harry makes some rather intense sounds of protest that make Merlin worry. "What's wrong with him?"

"I suspect he's being a fussy baby. I put a few warming pouches in the carrier and he's snuggled against them. Probably doesn't want to come out."

"Do ye want something to entice him out of the crate? The bugger loves treats." 

Eggsy shakes his head, "No need, I have my ways."

Merlin watches as Eggsy pulls out a cloth covered sack, and then another. Harry yowls mournfully, similar to the sound he makes when Merlin tosses away a cardboard box. "Those are the warmers?"

"Yup, now he's got no reason to stay in the carrier." And just like that, Eggsy pulls Harry out.

The cat looks both disgusted and rather pleased with itself, especially when the good doctor arranges him on top of the warmers. Harry spreads himself out, no modesty, no shame, and Merlin just shakes his head.

"Do ye think he knows what he put me through?"

"Probably not." Eggsy takes a stethoscope from his neck and listens to Harry's chest. "Heart and lungs are normal, but from the way he's panting, he's probably a bit dehydrated. Do you have any wet food?"

"Aye. I know it's probably not the best thing to feed him, but I have a couple of cans of Fancy Feast."

"It's okay for a few meals, but you're right, you shouldn't make a habit it of it." Eggsy looks around. "Where's his basket? He's probably still a bit stressed and should - pardon the expression - chill a bit before having dinner."

Merlin points to a basket in the corner, near the heating vent.

Eggsy picks Harry up, together with the towel and the warming packs, and tucks him into the basket. Harry, who is far from shy, purrs audibly when the doctor rubs his head. "He's got a lot of personality."

"Not that different from his owner," Merlin grumbles.

"Well, I should get out of your hair." Eggsy winces and apologizes. "Sorry about that."

"Lad, if I had a penny for every time someone apologized for using that expression, I'd be a wealthy man. And can I pay ye for yer service? Ye've really gone above and beyond the call of duty."

Eggsy looks like he's about to decline when Harry howls. "Okay, okay, I'll stay for a bit," Eggsy tells the cat, which soothes him. "But," he says to Merlin, "I won't take a penny from you."

"Then what about a cuppa? It's the least I can do."

Eggsy nods. "A cuppa would be nice. I'd like to stay for a bit and make sure Harry's not in any distress."

Harry lets out a tiny, almost feeble yowl, and frankly, Merlin thinks that Harry's overplaying his hand and is just being an attention whore. It's all right, since Merlin isn't all that eager to bid the young vet good evening, either. He fusses a bit with the tea, breaks out a tin filled with butter tarts, and sets out sugar and cream and a pair of mugs. He doesn't think Eggsy's the kind of man who drinks tea out of fine china. 

"Can I help?" 

Merlin debates the answer. He's so accustomed to diverting attention to his physical limitations that he'll end up falling on his face before asking for help. In the end, he lets the usual instincts take over. "No, yer my guest, ye've done me a great favor. It's just tea, I can manage."

And in truth, he can. He brings the pot - empty except for the tea ball filled with a fragrant Assam blend - and when the kettle comes to a boil, he brings that over, fills the pot and finally sits.

"Are you all right?" Eggsy peers at him, concerned.

"Just tired. Didn't expect to be tramping all over Bloomsbury looking for that bugger."

"What happened?"

"Came home and the damn fiend ran out before I could get the door shut. Grabbed a flashlight and started searching. He's never done that before. Harry hates going outside." Merlin looks over at the cat, who is now a picture of angelic sweetness, his head resting on the edge of his basket.

"Well, I'm just glad he found me, because this isn't good weather to be running around naked."

"To be running around, period." Merlin pours out two cups, lets Eggsy fix his own before adding a bit of cream to his. The only virtue of the tea at Caffè Nero was that it had been hot and sweet. Otherwise, it was, as Harry the Human might say, piss water.

Eggsy helps himself to a butter tart and lets out a moan that's practically pornographic. "Who is your baker, because honestly, I'd kill for a steady supply of these beauties."

Merlin smiles. "Yer looking at him. I like to bake, it's very peaceful."

Eggsy gives him a frankly appraising look. "Then you don't eat your own creations all that much, because your fit as fuck and I ain't never met a baker who looked as good as you do."

In another life, Merlin would think that Eggsy's flirting with him, but that's not possible. So he's polite about the compliment. "Thank ye, I just spend a fair amount of time in the gym, working off the fruits of my labors. My colleagues routinely complain that I'm the devil, sabotaging their diets, but that doesn't seem to stop them from consuming everything I bring in."

Eggsy licks his thumb and longingly eyes the plate. 

Merlin isn't one to push, but this lad has always pushed his buttons. "Have another."

"I shouldn't." But Eggsy reaches for one and eats it with relish as he finishes his tea. 

"Let me give Harry another look, make sure he's still all right and then I'll go. Let you enjoy what's left of your evening."

"Ye don't have to rush, not like I have anything to do tonight."

"Other than get comfortable, I can see that you're limping. Might be an animal doctor, but I don't need to be an MD to see when a human is exhausted and in pain."

"It's a chronic condition, lad. And a good night's sleep will go a long way to fixing it." Merlin won't deny that he's a bit warmed by Eggsy's attention, but he'd rather it not be so health focused.

Eggsy looks like he wants to ask more, but instead focuses on Harry, again listening to his heart and lungs and checking his eyes. "If this brat isn't feeling well tomorrow, don't hesitate to bring him by. I'll leave a note at the desk to make sure he gets an appointment, no matter how heavily we're booked."

"Thank ye, lad. I appreciate that, and everything ye've done for Harry tonight."

Eggsy smiles and holds out his hand. "It got me a chance to see you again. And Harry, of course."

At that, Eggsy grabs his coat and hat and heads out, leaving Merlin standing there, utterly gobsmacked.

Harry chirrups and steps out of his basket, stropping Merlin's ankles.

"Oh, look at ye now. All sweet and loving. Ye're just hungry, right? Or are ye just as taken by the pretty doctor as I am?"

Merlin sighs, feeling a million kinds of foolish for drooling after a man half his age, and goes to fetch the promised can of wet food from the pantry. Harry's vocalizations become louder with every second that passes, until Merlin puts the bowl on the floor with a flourish. Harry consumes his dinner, with a dainty kind of urgency that gives Merlin the willies. 

He thinks about his own dinner and decides to have something later, with all the tea sloshing around his belly. Merlin washes up and fetches the ingredients for his nan's pastry crust. Eggsy really did enjoy the tarts, and a few dozen would be a nice gift to him - and to the vet practice - in thanks for this evening's good deed.

And as much as his stump aches, Merlin knows the pastry will be better for having rested in the fridge overnight. He doesn't want to think about using a gift of baked goods as the chance to see Doctor Unwin again.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Eggsy sits in his car and listens to the ice pelting the roof and windshield. He feels like an utter idiot. He'd just about dropped trou for the most gorgeous guy in London and the man didn't even notice.

Or perhaps Merlin had been polite and had simply ignored Eggsy's overtures to avoid any embarrassment. After twenty-seven years on this planet, a good chunk of the first twenty of them spent in pretty brutal conditions, Eggsy should have know better than to flirt with a straight guy. 

But Merlin is so much Eggsy's type. Older, as smart as he's gorgeous, and of course, an animal lover. When Merlin told him that Harry wasn't even his, that he watches the cat for a friend, who apparently relies so much on Merlin's loyalty that he'd put the man's name into the national register for the chip, Eggsy's heart had just about melted.

In truth, Eggsy had kind of fallen for Merlin when he'd brought Harry in to be boarded, about six months ago. 

_It had been his turn on the rotation to stay late to do a final check on all the overnighters, then close up._

_Eggsy had been just about to turn off the lights when Merlin had arrived, carrier in hand and a very noisy, very aggravated cat inside it. Merlin had apologized for arriving so late, his cat had fought him tooth and claw about getting into the carrier. "I'd called earlier, about needing to board the beast for three days. It's an emergency - please don't tell me I'm too late."_

_Eggsy had checked the list and had seen that one "Harry Hart, Sphynx cat, male 5 yrs old, no dietary issues" had been on the list of incoming boarders. So he'd reassured the man that they could definitely take him, although he'd been pretty sure his boss might ream him out for being a little too accommodating. _

_When Merlin had smiled at him, Eggsy thought he'd never seen such masculine perfection. And the Scottish accent hadn't helped Eggsy's suddenly overactive libido._

_"I'm very grateful. Have to go up to Scotland for a few days, and Harry here is such a bleeding fussbudget. If I leave him home alone for three days, he'll fall into a deep depression and won't eat for a week." Merlin looked into the carrier and talked to the cat, "Ye're going to behave yerself, ye little monster. Ye're going to eat and drink for the nice people and not do anything stupid like cough up a hairball." _

_Eggsy had bit his tongue, not wanting to remind the man that he has a Sphynx cat, which has no hair. "Will you introduce me?"_

_Although Sphynx cats are not common, Eggsy's seen a few in the last couple of years and Harry is, by far, the most supremely ugly goblin of a hairless cat Eggsy's ever laid eyes on. Regal, but ugly, with wrinkled blue-black skin, glowing green eyes and ears that could hold ping-pong balls._

_Merlin must have noticed Eggsy's reaction. "Aye, he's like something that should be sitting on the outside of a cathedral protecting the worshippers, but what he lacks in good looks, he makes up for in personality."_

_"You love him."_

_Merlin had Harry cradled in his arms, and the cat had been rubbing his face against Merlin's cheek, purring audibly. "Aye, I do love the cheeky bugger. He's good company."_

Eggsy sighs at the memory. How more perfect could the man be?

A rush of wind sends Eggsy's car rocking and a wave of sleet thunders again the windshield, reminding Eggsy that he needs to get going. He can moon and pin over the perfection of Merlin Adair in the safety of his own flat.

Of course, when he does get home, there's not a parking spot to be found and Eggsy ends up hoofing it for three blocks. Cold weather gear has never been much of a priority, since London rarely gets hit like this, and his jacket is soaked through by the time he gets home. The flat is tiny, on the top floor of a five-story building, but it's warm and clean and best of all, private. No flatmates deal with, no one stealing his food or using all of the hot water, or blasting the telly when Eggsy wants to sleep. All of which is a proper tradeoff for having to pay all of the expenses. 

He heads right to the bath and turns on the shower, dumping his wet clothes on the floor. The water is blessedly hot and Eggsy lets it do it's magic. Thank god he's off tomorrow and can spend the day on the couch or better yet, under the covers in bed. Another nice thing about not having flatmates - there's no need to be entertaining or articulate when all you'd rather do is veg. <I>And think about the kind - and very hot - man you'd just embarrassed yourself with.</i>

The hot water turns lukewarm, the signal for Eggsy to get out of the shower. He wraps himself in a towel, bypasses his wet clothes - he'll deal with them in the morning - and heads to bed. He probably should eat something, but maybe later.

Nights like this, Eggsy misses his dog. JB had been sweet and adorable, a cuddler extraordinaire, but he was a pug with all of the health problems the modern version of the breed has. Eggsy's boss had tried to argue Eggsy out of the against the rescue adoption, pointing out the history of disease and serious breathing problems in the breeding line. But Eggsy had fallen in love and brought the little thing home, only to lose him to a serious genetic disease less than a year later.

Eggsy supposes he could get another dog, since the building is pet-friendly, but he works long hours and it's not really fair. He rolls over and stares out the window, watching the sleet accumulate against the panes of glass. It's kind of pretty the way the light reflects against the droplets. 

The thought makes Eggsy smile, an hour ago, he'd been cursing the weather with every bad word he knew. Now that he's inside and warm, he can enjoy the aesthetics. Maybe a little music to add to the ambiance.

Except his phone is nowhere in reach. Eggsy groans as he remembers the last time he'd used it - to text Merlin when he'd pulled up in front of the coffee shop. He doesn't recall if he'd tucked the phone back into his jacket or put it in the center console. The thought of going back out to retrieve it makes him ill.

Eggsy gets out of bed, finds a clean tee shirt and pair of trackies and goes phone hunting. He starts with the bathroom, and lets out a grateful sigh. His phone is in his jacket pocket, no worse for wear. Since he's up, he deals with the damp clothes, tossing them over the shower rail so the don't get moldy before he can wash them.

About to crawl back under the covers, the phone lets out a chirp for an incoming text. It's Roxy, begging him to cover for her tomorrow. Tilde's morning sickness is now a twenty-four hour thing and they need to go to the doctor first thing in the morning.

Eggsy sighs and doesn't even consider saying no. Roxy's his best mate and he owes her his world. They'd met at Uni and she'd been the one to encourage him to apply to the veterinary science program. They'd been classmates and academic rivals but always friends first, and when it came time to graduate and go into the real world, she'd talked him into interviewing with her uncle. Roxy had planned on working in Stockholm, where her girlfriend lived, so there had been an opening for a full-time at the Bloomsbury animal clinic that Percival Morton's great-grandfather had right after The Great War.

Roxy's plans for a life in Sweden hadn't worked out, mostly because Tilde's parents had been utter arseholes and the pair ended up returning to London about a year after they'd left. Percival had hesitated to add Roxy to the roster, not wanting to cut into Eggsy's hours, but Eggsy owed Roxy too much and had told his boss that as long as it didn't mean he wouldn't get a chance to make partner before Roxy, he was fine.

Percival, who is pretty much the dictionary definition of A Good Bloke, had assured Eggsy that as long as he brought in income, he would remain on the partner track well ahead of Roxanne. In fact, Eggsy could end up as the senior partner if he kept going the way he had been up to this point.

That had been four years ago, and just before Christmas of this year, Percival had offered Eggsy his buy-in into the practice. He might be a junior partner now, but that doesn't mean he still doesn't have to step in and cover for other vets. In Eggsy's mind, it makes him even more responsible - he's got a stake in every client that comes in.

He checks the weather, and the storm is supposed to clear out by midnight, and be well over freezing tomorrow, with blue skies by midday. Well, at least that's something.

Now that he's up, his stomach rumbles, reminding him that those butter tarts, no matter how delicious, really aren't a nutritious meal. Eggsy puts on some water to boil and makes himself a bowl of pasta with jarred sauce. He's about to eat the first mouthful when he remembers something Merlin had said - that Harry's owner is his closest friend _and vice-verse_.

Shit - that had been Merlin's way of saying he's involved with someone. In a long term relationship. Eggsy knows that a lot of older guys don't really come out to strangers - even though Eggsy had all but waved a rainbow flag in his face.

Eggsy picks up the bowl of food and dumps the whole thing into the bin. His appetite's gone, with the realization that he's been seriously jonesing for a bloke that's already taken. 

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

_This is a mistake._

Merlin keeps repeating that to himself, and yet he still continues on his way to the veterinary clinic, a decorative tin of butter tarts in one hand, the carrier that Eggsy had left behind last night in the other. He didn't have classes or office hours today, and didn't need to be on campus, so he'd pampered himself with an appointment with the acupuncturist to help with the phantom pain, then a therapeutic massage. If he'd stopped at his barber for a skin treatment and a really close shave, well, that's no one's business but his own.

It's not like he's deliberately trying to look nice for a certain too-young veterinarian that just might have flirted with him last night.

By midday, the sun had melted all of the crap from last night's storm and Merlin doesn't fear for his life walking down the street. Soon enough, he's at the clinic, but almost ends up on his ass when an overly enthusiastic Saint Bernard pulls its owner out the door. All he gets is a hurried "Sorry", but Merlin doesn't dwell on it.

There's no one at the receptionist's desk, and Merlin's tempted to leave the carrier and the tin of tarts with a note, when he sees a familiar face. "Percival Morton?"

His own surprise is mirror in his friend's expression. "Merlin Adair, what are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same thing."

"This is my practice, didn't you know that?"

"Clearly not."

Percival pulls him into an office. "Is that Harry's Harry in the carrier? Is there a problem?" 

"Actually, the carrier's empty. It's yers and I'm returning it to ye. One of yer doctors did me a good turn last night and I wanted to thank him." Merlin gives Percival an abbreviated version of the almost tragedy. "I don't know how, but the wee bastard made it here from my house in the ice and snow without dying, and the good Doctor Unwin found him and called me."

"Ah, Eggsy had mentioned something about a 'visitor' last night, fumphed around a bit about a lost cat and that he left one of the clinic's carriers behind with the animal's 'guardian'. Should have figured it was Harry's Harry causing problems."

"I don't know what got into the beastie last night. Just ran out into the storm, nearly gave me a heart attack. Spent an hour wandering around, calling for him."

Percival makes some sympathetic noises. "But all's well that ends well."

"Aye, and your Doctor Unwin really did go above and beyond. Picked me up at the Caffè Nero on Woburn so I wouldn't have to walk home. And frankly, I don't think I'd have made it."

"Eggsy's a good lad, has a heart of gold. He and my niece are best mates."

Merlin shakes his head, "I can't believe I dinna make the connection between Roxy and ye and this practice. I've known ye through Harry for the best part of two decades and I've lived in the neighborhood for thirty years, but I never realized ye had yer practice nearly around the block from my house."

Percival shrugs. "Well, Harry abuses my friendship to no end, and has had me make house calls on all the various animals he's owned. When he has to bring them in, it's usually during very off hours. Maybe that's why Eggsy knew who Harry the Cat was." 

Before Merlin can correct him, Percival corrects himself. "Actually, no. Eggsy would never have treated Harry the Cat. So how _did_ he recognize him?"

"I'd brought the bastard in for boarding about six months ago. Eggsy had done the intake. I didn't know that Harry came here - I'd only picked this place because it's close to home and I had to go to Edinburgh for an emergency. And Harry is a most memorable cat - even when he doesn't make a pitiful racket for three days solid."

Percival shakes his head in wonder at the odd set of coincidences, then notices the tin Merlin's still carrying. "There wouldn't be butter tarts in there?"

Merlin clutches the tin to his chest, "These are for Eggsy - a thank you gift. If ye're lucky, he might share them with ye."

"You are a cruel man, Merlin. Cruel and hateful to deny your best friend's friend the delights of your butter tarts."

Merlin almost chokes from laughter.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, you know what I mean."

"I most certainly do, and you'll have to go begging to Eggsy for a taste.

Percival makes a face and picks up his desk phone. "Molly, is Doctor Unwin free? Oh, good. Please send him to my office." 

Merlin gets to his feet when Eggsy comes in, while Percival reclines in his leather chair, looking too much like a smug bastard for Merlin's peace of mind. 

"You needed to see me, Doctor Morton?"

"You have a visitor, Eggsy."

It's then that Eggsy notice Merlin. He flushes bright red, then turns pale in a matter of heartbeats. "Mr. Adair, is everything all right? Has Harry taken a bad turn?"

"Nae, Harry's just fine. Like he never decided to go on walkabout. I needed to return the carrier ye left behind. And give ye these." Merlin holds out the tin.

Percival ruins the surprise. "There's butter tarts in there, Eggsy. Merlin's butter tarts are legendary."

Eggsy nods. "I know, Mr. Adair served them last night. Made me a cuppa when I was checking Harry over."

Merlin wonders why Eggsy's gotten so formal, calling him "Mr. Adair" when he'd been Merlin up until now. "Ye seemed to like them, lad. So I thought I'd bring ye a fresh batch, to thank ye for yer courtesy last night."

Eggsy doesn't take the tin. "It was nothing, just doing what any decent person would do."

There's something definitely wrong, but pressing the lad about it in front of Percival will only make things worse. "Please - even if ye don't want any for yerself, share them with the office. If I give them to your boss," Merlin tilts his head towards Percival, "he'll eat them all himself."

Eggsy sighs and gives Merlin a tight smile. "Well, if only to save Doctor Morton from a belly ache and dangerously high cholesterol. And thank you." Eggsy takes the tin and leaves in a hurry.

Merlin doesn't comment on Eggsy's bizarre behavior, but Percival frowns at the door his employee all but slammed shut behind him. "Never known Unwin to be so rude. Did something happen last night?"

"Nae, nothing." Merlin's definitely not going to mention Eggsy's light flirtation from last night. "He'd been the soul of kindness."

"Oh, well. Maybe he's just annoyed at covering today - my niece's wife is pregnant and isn't feeling well. Excessive morning sickness."

They chat for a bit about family, Percival asks if Merlin's heard anything from Harry. He hasn't, which isn't the least bit unusual. Despite his self-proclaimed need for all the creature comforts, Harry's one of the world's most prominent lepidopterists, spending half the year in god-forsaken jungles and deserts, chasing after pretty winged creatures with an oversized net. 

Or well that's the image Merlin has, which is probably the absolute opposite of what Harry actually does. 

"I probably should let ye get back to work."

"It was good seeing you, Merlin." Percival gets to his feet and sees Merlin back to the reception room. "Perhaps when Harry gets back from God knows where, we can all get together for dinner."

"That would be nice."

As Merlin heads back home, he wonders, not for the first time, if Percival has a bit of a crush on Harry. It would be nice to see Harry with someone who can make him happy. It's something pleasant to contemplate, instead of Eggsy's sudden coldness. Last night, he'd shocked Merlin with his flirtatiousness, and Merlin hadn't known how to respond. It's been literal decades since anyone's flirted with him like that. Harry had once told him he has a resting bitch face of an axe murder and the smile of a serial killer, and that it would take a very special kind of man to see past the scary externals.

Last night, while Merlin had been working the pastry dough, he'd thought about Eggsy Unwin, and had let himself believe that the lad had been been attracted to him. After all, he'd said that he'd been happy to have a reason to see him - Merlin - again.

But the visit to the vet clinic had just proven that all of that had been self-delusion. That Eggsy had merely been kind, that he certainly hadn't been flirting. 

Merlin tightens his scarf and burrows into his coat collar, chilled to his soul. The clear blue skies and the promise of spring in the breeze are nothing but lies.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

  


The rest of Eggsy's shift seems endless. Too many overfed pets, too many owners who blame the condition on little Rover's endless appetite or Mitten's uncanny ability to get into sealed containers of food and eat herself sick. Eggsy can lecture all he wants, but he knows that it's useless. The owners aren't going to listen, and then they'll blame him when their beloved fur baby develops a completely preventable illness.

There is one highlights on the day - making a house call on a newborn litter of Golden Retriever puppies that are all perfectly healthy. Watching the mama dog feed them, nuzzling them until they find a teat, lying there like a canine Holy Madonna, makes Eggsy feel like he's actually doing something worthwhile.

The feeling doesn't last when he returns to the clinic and has to deal with a client who wants to have her cat declawed because it's ruining her new draperies. The woman doesn't understand that declawing is actually amputation and she'll be crippling her cat, and in fact the practice doesn't perform such operations. No reputable veterinary clinic does. The woman huffs and puffs and demands to see his supervisor. Eggsy's at the end of his rope and actually calls in Doctor Morton, who is far less polite when he threatens to report her to the RSPCA. The debacle ends when the woman leaves her cat in their care and stalks off, muttering that people don't understand that she can't just have thousands of pounds of new decor ruined by some mangy animal.

His boss must notice how worn down Eggsy is and sends him home a little early. Eggsy puts up a token protest, but when Doctor Morton all but pushes him out the door, Eggsy doesn't fight. He could go home and get some extra sleep, but that'll fuck him up for tonight, and even though he's worked a ten hour day today, he still has a shift tomorrow. 

And while he's tired - last night has been pretty sleepless - he's also got kind of this nervous energy that going to have to be worked off if he wants to get any rest tonight. So he heads back to his flat, grabs his workout bag and heads to the local gym. Maybe some cardio will help.

He sets a decent pace on the treadmill, puts in a pair of earbuds and goes for a few klicks to the sound of his favorite playlist. It gets the sweat going and takes him out of his head. From the treadmill, he hits the rowing machine and then the stair climber. It a bit of a stretch beyond his usual workout, but the panting, limp noodle feeling he has is a good antidote to the stress from the day's aggravation.

Not to mention the shame and embarrassment of seeing Merlin again, so quick on the heels of his utterly embarrassing performance last night. Eggsy hauls himself off to the shower, letting the endless hot water pound against his aching muscles like a massage.

Eggsy wraps himself in a towel and heads to the locker room to dress. He's not alone, there are three other men there in various stages of undress, and Eggsy barely notices them. They all seem to know each other are are busy bragging about their various workout routines. He wonders if straight men ever get tired of this kind of dick measuring. A fourth man comes into the locker room and Eggsy quickly turns away, hiding behind his locker's open door.

It's Merlin Adair, of all people. The man he least wants to see, but this meeting feels all kinds of inevitable. This is the one of the best gyms in the neighborhood, and Merlin lives about three blocks away.

Unfortunately, hiding behind his locker door doesn't save him from Merlin - he has the locker next to him.

"Ah, Doctor Unwin. Didn't know you came here." Merlin's voice is cool, as distant as the outer planets.

"Yeah. But I'm usually here after my consulting hours. Doctor Morton let me go a few hours early today." 

"Everything all right?"

"Everything's fine. I'd picked up Roxy's hours today and well, when things got light, boss sent me home early."

"Percival's a good man."

Eggsy agrees with that. "You've known him long?"

"About twenty years or so - though you'll laugh when I say I had no clue he owned your practice. He's Harry's next door neighbor."

"Harry? Your cat?"

Merlin gets a look of rueful self-disgust on his face. "Please promise not to laugh at what I'm about to tell you."

Eggsy finds himself falling into the trap of Merlin's charm. "Swear down, I won't laugh."

"My friend - the one who owns Harry the cat - he's named Harry, too. He's named every pet he's had over the last thirty years some version of Harry." Merlin smiles with telling fondness. "He's a good man and I love him dearly, but he is strange."

Ah, of course. And there's the confirmation Eggsy's been dreading. But he needs to remain civil and shares a war story. "Once, I had to talk a dog owner out of naming his German Shepherd 'Bite The Nuts Off'. Explained that his insurance would go through the roof." Eggsy tries to sound normal, and laughs a little, even though he feels like ten kinds of arsehole and his heart's kind of breaking a bit. Which is stupid and foolish, since he's only spoken with Merlin a handful of times. 

He grabs his clothes and starts to dress and Merlin does the same, except he sits down and does something Eggsy had not been expecting. He takes his lower left leg off. 

And like a moron, Eggsy just stares as Merlin wipes down his stump and replaces the compression stocking before putting the prosthesis back on.

Merlin must have caught his expression. He doesn't say anything, just makes a face that's like a rueful sneer. He finishes dressing and stalks out before Eggsy can think of a way to apologize for his rudeness.

Shit.

Eggsy throws on his clothes and runs out of the gym, hoping to find Merlin and explain that he'd just been caught unawares. He hadn't been grossed out or disgusted or anything like that. He's seen so much worse - and hell, he's done amputations on animals and trained them to use their own kind of prosthetics. He just hadn't been expected to see a man he'd thought to be at the pinnacle of human fitness to have had such a terrible injury.

By the time Eggsy gets to the street, it's pitch black outside and Merlin disappeared from sight. Eggsy thinks about heading over to the man's house to apologize, but what for? Merlin's taken, in a long term relationship. Maybe it's better this way. 

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

  


Merlin stomps home from the gym, drops his bag in the foyer and then himself on the couch. Harry comes running, skids to a halt at Merlin's feet, looks at him like he's contemplating serious mischief, then jumps, landing square on Merlin's chest. Harry tucks his head under Merlin's chin and purrs, sounding like a tiny version of a Rolls-Royce jet engine.

Merlin sighs and Harry stops purring for a moment to look at him. In that second, Merlin thinks he sees the wisdom of the gods in those glowing green eyes.

"Ye know, I could have handled the distance he decided to put between us - he could have had second thought about flirting with a man twice his age. I would not have minding admiring him from afar, letting last night be a sweet memory - a moment of connection that never quite happened. But after what just happened, I can't even do that. How can I, Harry? He looked at me with such revulsion."

Harry chirrups and Merlin wishes he spoke cat. Or that Harry the Human was back so he could talk about this. Merlin presses a soft kiss onto Harry's little goblin head, right between the ears. "Ye're good company, but yer owner always has a way of seeing to the heart of the matter. Helping me see a path out of the foolishness."

"Mrrep." 

"Aye, that too." Merlin strokes Harry's wrinkly body and tries to relax. The purring and nuzzling help to the point that he can get off his ass and throw together a meal for himself and for Harry. Afterwards, Harry enjoys a bit of night crazies, which Merlin enjoys, too - pulling out the laser pointer and letting the cat chase the red dot around. Eventually, Harry collapses in his basket and Merlin goes up to his office to get some work done on an article he's been working on for the last year - fantastical animal imagery in sacred texts from the British Isles. He's done his research and it's now just the actual writing, which is the least enjoyable part of the process. But as a full professor at the Warburg Institute, he is required to produce at last one article every two years, and this one is slated for publication in the Institute's internationally renown journal. A feather in his cap, as Harry would say. 

Harry the human, that is.

He's managed to dig deep and forces out a few dozen mostly coherent paragraphs out when his phone buzzes with an incoming call. It is from, of all people, Harry Hart.

"Hello?"

_"Hello, my friend. How are you this fine evening."_

"Well enough, ye?"

_"You don't sound happy to hear my voice."_

"In all the years we've known each other, ye've never called me when ye're traveling. It's not displeasure, but surprise."

_"That may be because I'm not traveling at the moment. I am ensconced in my own living room, a glass of delightfully old single malt in hand, and I figured I should call my best friend and check in on him."_

"When did ye get home?"

_"This afternoon - but I'm only in town for two days."_

"Ah." Merlin feels relieved, he's not ready to return Harry to Harry.

_"If you're free tomorrow, why not come over for dinner? We can catch up and you can regale me with all the delightful misdeeds of my namesake."_

"Shall I bring Harry for a visit?"

_"No, no need to get him all happy to see me and be home, then take him away."_

"Aye, that's wise. He's been a right bugger, you know."

_"Save the stories, be here at seven."_

Harry disconnects and Merlin feels better knowing that he'll be able to get some perspective on the problem. And oddly enough, the anticipation of seeing his best friend soon seems to unravel the writing block and the words flow with almost magical ease. It's only when Harry the cat pushes his way into Merlin's office and plops himself between Merlin's body and the keyboard does Merlin realize just how late it's gotten. He actually can't remember the last time he'd been up and working this late.

Sleep comes surprisingly easily, with Harry curled up under his chin. Even when Merlin wakes a few hours later, with Harry perched on his head and he gently dislodges the hot little goblin, he falls back to sleep within minutes.

The next day goes quickly enough. Merlin has a seminar to teach, then a meeting with the DPhil student he has under advisement. On his way home, he picks up a bottle of wine - a vintage he knows Harry will appreciate. He feeds Harry the cat, takes a few pictures to show Harry the Human, calls for an Uber and heads out.

Walking up to Harry's front door always feels a little bit like coming home. Times like this, he's just a tiny bit sad that he and Harry never got together - it would have been nice to have the familiarity of bodies as well as minds. But on the other hand, Harry is his best friend and sex has a way of complicating things for the worse.

Merlin is just about to ring the bell when the door is flung open. It's Harry, of course, and he's tan and smiling and when he hugs Merlin, Merlin can feel that he's a little too thin.

"Welcome home, for the moment."

"It's good to be back, for the moment."

Harry takes the bottle of wine that Merlin offers, a ten year old Barolo. "You are the bestest of friends, Merlin Adair. This will go with dinner - hope you don't mind that I haven't cooked."

"Harry, you don't cook unless it's Welsh rarebit."

"Hmm, that's true. And I've had a lovely Italian feast brought in from Nonna Sosso, I know how much you love their lasagna."

"That's true - and perhaps I had been hoping for just that when I picked out the wine."

Harry flashes a quick smile at him, and Merlin suddenly feels like they're both nineteen again.

It's not until Harry brings out pudding - a fruit tart that's perfectly elegant in its simplicity that he actually asks about his own damn cat.

"That beast had almost been the death of me two nights ago." Merlin goes on to tell of the misadventure. "I don't know what had been going on inside that little goblin head of his, but he just ran out and down the street in the middle of an ice storm. Fecking idiot."

Harry doesn't seem overly worried, perhaps because he hadn't lived through the nightmare. "But he's all right?"

"As fine as ever. The moron actually ended up at the animal clinic around the block. The one that I had no clue your neighbor, Percival, owned." Merlin doesn't bother to hide his outrage. "In all of the years you've know him, ye couldn't once mention that? I felt like an idiot when I walked in and saw him there."

"Didn't really seem worth mentioning. My pets are extraordinarily healthy, and I take care of their routine medical visits." Harry doesn't seem affected by Merlin's minor outrage. "So Percival found my cat and called you?"

"No, actually it was one of his staff - a young vet who'd been about to close up."

"Oh?" Harry must hear something in those simple words. "I'm guessing it wasn't his niece, Roxy. You've met the girl."

"Yes, of course I've met here. Right here, in your own living room. And no, it was a young lad who helped me." Merlin knows Harry's not going to drop the matter. "Eggsy Unwin - have you met him?"

"Not really. Percival treats my animals here - he's really rather too generous, and I think the only time I went to the clinic in Bloomsbury had been that time when Mr. Pickle had been so sick. Pancreatitis."

Merlin remembers Harry's Cairn terrier, a fierce little ratter with the improbable name of Mr. Pickle, Mr. _Harry_ Pickle. That dog had been the only one of Harry's pets that Merlin hadn't watched while Harry had been traveling. Harry Pickle had joined Harry Hart's household shortly before Merlin had lost his leg, and Harry had cancelled his travels for a full year, taking care of Merlin during that time. He'd regaled Merlin with tales of the little beast's amazing puppyhood through the hours of physical therapy, but Harry had realized that Merlin needed to focus on himself for a while when he'd gotten back on his feet. Merlin had only minded a little bit when Harry had asked his new neighbor, conveniently a veterinarian, to watch the dog while Harry travelled the world in search of rare butterflies.

"Tell me about this young doctor. Good looking?"

Merlin rolls his eyes. "Harry, come on."

"I have known you for more than forty years, and I can tell when you're interested in someone." Harry leans back in his chair and sips his wine. "Now, spill."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "There's nothing to spill. The lad had been kind enough to make sure than the feckin' goblin hadn't caught a cold, and he might have flirted a bit. Or maybe not."

"Flirted? You're not sure?"

"I - I thought he was, said a few things that had seemed obvious in the moment, but I'd been a little exhausted and didn't respond to the overtures. When I went to the clinic the next day - he's left a carrier behind - and I saw him again, he'd turned a bit distant. Called me Mr. Adair, didn't want the tin of butter tarts I'd made as a thank you gift." Merlin shakes his head. "Which had sort of dashed my plans for asking the lad out to coffee, or maybe dinner. Which is probably a good thing, because he got totally disgusted when he saw me without my leg."

"Excuse me? What did you do, sit down and take it off in the middle of Percival's clinic?"

"What? Harry, ye say things like that and ye're as much a feckin' idiot as yer cat. I'd been at the gym. The lad - Eggsy - was there, too. We'd ended up with lockers almost next to each other. I saw his face when I'd dried my stump. He looked revolted."

"Eggsy. What an unusual name."

"Of all the things to focus on, Harry? It's just some silly childhood thing that stuck. And it doesn't matter. I disgust him."

"Really? Did he start to retch? Did he turn green and hold his hand over his mouth? Or did he just stare and not say anything because he'd been shocked? You have a nasty habit of always assuming the worst, especially about that." Harry gestures to Merlin's leg.

"So, ye're saying that that I'm being overly sensitive?"

"It's possible. Even likely. Your Eggsy - "

"He's not _my_ Eggsy."

Harry ignores the interruption and continues, his words hard and his tone implacable. "Your Eggsy is a medical professional. If he's working for Percival, he's a board certified veterinary surgeon. He's seen things much worse than your stump. You can't be so foolish to think that someone who doesn't know isn't going to have some kind of reaction." 

Merlin pours the dregs of the bottle into his glass and finishes it with a grimace. The tarry notes of the Barolo go all too well with his feelings. "So what is your recommendation?"

"Be persistent, my friend. Give him a chance."

"And what if he really doesn't want me? What if all I'm doing is setting myself up for a whole lot of embarrassment?"

Harry scratches his chin and give Merlin a contemplative look. "What if you aren't? What if your first impression of this young man is correct, that he likes you and finds you attractive and wants to get to know you better? You're not a coward, Merlin - you'll survive a little embarrassment."

Merlin isn't ready to give up the fight yet. "I'm close to twice his age, Harry. What could I offer him?"

Harry, though, is done with the bullshit. He rolls his eyes so hard that Merlin wonders why they aren't spinning like wheels in a slot machine. "Stop being an idiot, all right? Do you want me to talk with Percival, sound him out about the boy? Get a hint that maybe he really likes you."

Hopefully Harry's just taking the piss and Merlin shuts that down. "Hell no! This isn't some high school romance."

"All I'm saying, old friend, is that if you like him, if you think there could be something between the two of you, then you owe it to yourself to clear up any misunderstandings. And if I'm wrong, and he's not interested or worse, finds your missing bits unacceptable, at least you'll know and you won't spend the next twenty years pining for the one who got away."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Despite being a partner in the practice, Eggsy is still pretty much low man on the totem pole, getting to make all of the house calls. Roxy does make an effort, but Percival is keeping her close to home - what with Tilde's difficult pregnancy.

Eggsy can understand that - family is paramount. And it's not as if Percival abuses Eggsy - he pays him very well for doing all of the out of office calls and he never has Eggsy come in on a Sunday for emergencies, he handles those himself, unless he needs an extra pair of hands.

Tonight, though, Eggsy just wished he could go home and bury himself under the covers, instead of making a house call in St. John's Wood. It's not anything specific, just an overall weariness with life. Perhaps he should start looking into a vacation - someplace warm and sunny - where he can forget about his disappointments and indulge his senses. Except that he's saving his time and his money for the big trip to New Zealand, to visit his mum and sister.

At least he's done after he checks out Mrs. Pinner's aged St. Bernard, a slobber machine with no sense of personal space, no need to go back to the office. And the dog is fine, just old and winding down from a life well-lived. Eggsy draws some blood for routine tests, suggests a slightly lower calorie diet, a joint supplement, and leaves within twenty minutes of arrival. 

As Eggsy walks back to his car, he feels like he's being watched - there's a strange sort of itchiness on the back of his neck. He's experienced this before, but it's not like he's ever seen anyone following him. He keeps looking over his shoulder but there's no one there. It's certainly a nice neighborhood, one of the best ones in London - and one of the most expensive if the Daily Mail's to be believed - so it's not like there would be muggers hanging about, watching him from the shadows.

It is still a little creepy, with the vastness of Regent's Park to the east and the tiny, but ancient St. John's Wood Church Gardens to the left. Eggsy's a South London lad, and still not accustomed all of the parks and gardens that fill so much of the posher areas of the city. As he crosses, Eggsy sees a pair of glowing green eyes staring at him from the gardens - probably just a stray cat since human eyes don't shine green in reflected light.

Eggsy finally gets to his car and lets out a sigh of relief. It's not that late and he thinks about stopping by Roxy and Tilde's to see how the parents-to-be are faring. Even though the forecast had been for clear skies (and the skies _had_ been clear until Eggsy had gotten into his car), there's now a steady drizzle, and Eggsy flicks the windscreen wipers on. All they do is smear the water around and Eggsy sighs. He'd been meaning to have some seriously basic maintenance on the old Ford done - new wipers, new tyres, an oil change, but he hasn't had the time.

Eggsy pulls out into traffic and finds the direct route home blocked. The detour takes him to the ring road around Regent's Park, which is oddly deserted for this hour of the evening. He picks up speed, eager to get back to his own neighborhood, when he spots something in the road. It's a fox and Eggsy hits the brakes, but the road's slick and his tyres are bald and the brakes feel like mush. He swerves, desperately trying to avoid hitting the animal frozen in the middle of the road, but the brakes have locked and the tyres are gliding over the pavement and everything is going sideways.

Eggsy thinks he hears laughter as the front of the car crashes into a granite stanchion and sends it flying. His last conscious thought is of a man he barely knows, cuddling a nobly ugly cat like it's his favorite child.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It takes Merlin three days to work up the courage to go back to the Bloomsbury Animal Clinic. Harry's words had made sense in the moment, but once Merlin got home, in the privacy and quiet of his own bed, he'd lost his courage. He kept hearing the coolness in Eggsy's voice that day at the clinic, and even though they had been more warmth during that unexpected encounter in the locker room, it had all dissipated when Eggsy had seen the real Merlin.

Yet maybe Harry had been right, that it had not been disgust but shock. Maybe talk to the lad, invite him out for coffee, get to know him. How hard could that be? If Eggsy says no, that's that. Nothing lost but a tiny bit of his dignity.

He heads right from the Institute to the clinic, not even stopping home. Harry has plenty of food and water, he can survive on his own for another few hours. He won't be happy about it, but he won't fall into a decline.

Despite the lateness of the hour, the waiting room is packed and when Merlin approaches the receptionist, she looks overwhelmed. "May I help you?"

"I was hoping to speak with Doctor Unwin, is he available?"

A strange expression - something like grief - crosses the woman's face. "Doctor Unwin isn't in right now. If you need to make an appointment, either Doctor Percival Morton or Doctor Roxanne Morton can see your pet tomorrow. They are booked up full tonight. If this is an emergency, we can refer you to another clinic."

Merlin is struck with a terrible foreboding and very carefully asks, "Is Doctor Unwin all right?"

The receptionist bites her lip and leans forward. "Are you a friend?"

Merlin nods. "I haven't heard from him in a few days, and have been a bit worried." That's not exactly a lie.

"The doctor was in a bad car accident the other night."

Merlin feels sick. "How bad?"

"Doctors say he was really lucky, but he's got a broken leg and some pretty messed up insides. He'll be in hospital for a while."

Relieved just a little bit, Merlin asks, "Do ye know what hospital?"

The reception nods and writes out the information. "He's still in critical care, so he can't have visitors yet. Doctor Morton says he'll be there a few more days."

"Thank ye, I appreciate this." Merlin tucks the paper into his wallet.

"I probably shouldn't have told you any of this - but you're Eggsy's friend and it isn't right that you don't know."

"I am, and I won't tell anyone that you told me." Merlin manages to summon a smile and heads home. He waits a few hours and calls Percival to find out what actually happened.

_"Swerved to avoid hitting an animal, a fucking fox of all things - at least that's what the EMTs got out of him. Roads were damp, tyres were bald, and bam._”

"Have ye been up to see him?"

_"Family only allowed right now, and the kid's family is in New Zealand. Hospital's being strict on the visiting policy, since he's still in critical care."_

"Family's on vacation? You'd think they'd come home."

_"No, mother and baby sister emigrated. From what Eggsy's told me, the situation at home hadn't been good when he'd been a kid, but it's better now that the stepfather's out of the picture. His mum will be coming in this weekend, but she can only stay a few days."_

It's crazy, but Merlin starts formulating plans. He's been exactly where Eggsy is now - injured, without family to care for him. He can help, if Eggsy lets him.

Percival, however, isn't going to make this easy. _"What's all this interest in Eggsy? I noticed a bit of awkwardness when the two of you were in my office last week. He was doing his best not to look at you, but you looked at him like you wanted to eat him up with a spoon."_

"I like the lad, all right? I'd finally screwed up my courage to ask him out on a date when I found out he'd been hurt."

_"Ah. Do I want to know that my receptionist gave out confidential information?"_

"No, Percival, ye don't."

_"All right. I'll let you know when Michelle Unwin gets into town. Maybe she'll let you in to see him."_

"Thank ye, I'd appreciate that."

_"No worries. How's Harry doing?"_

"I presume he's okay. We had dinner last week when he'd returned from Costa Rica for all of forty-eight hours. I presume he's in back on the other side of the Atlantic again, in Uruguay by now."

_"I meant the cat, not my neighbor."_

Merlin feels the hot flush of embarrassment cover his face. "Ah, right. Cat's just fine. He's sitting on my lap, purring away." Merlin holds the phone against the beastie's chest so Percival can hear. 

Percival laughs and ends the conversation. _"On that note, I'm saying good night."_

Merlin tosses the phone aside, hating this feeling of helplessness. Once, at a critical point in his life, he'd considered abandoning the study of the art and history and culture that he'd so loved, for something more practical. The early Eighties had been the dawn of a new age of technology, and he could have made his mark there. If he had gone that route, he might now be able to work his way into the systems that contain all the information he needs.

But although he's named Merlin, he doesn't have any power over time and has to wait for minutes and hours and days to pass, for the fragile hope of a distant connection to make good upon a promise.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Eggsy wakes up from his sedated sleep and wonders, not so idly, if he'll ever been pain-free again. He shifts against the mattress, trying to find a position that'll give him some comfort, but he's pretty much locked into the position he's in until the nurses come to shift him properly.

"Sweetie, are you okay?" 

"Mum? Thought you were going home today." Eggsy vaguely remembers saying goodbye to his mum the last time he'd been awake.

"Flight got delayed until tomorrow morning, thought I'd spend a few more hours with you." Michelle moves to the end of the bed so Eggsy can see her.

"That's nice, mum." He feels like he's floating through the clouds, drifting aimlessly between sunshine and darkness.

"A friend's stopped by, I thought you might want to say hello."

Since Eggsy can't move his upper body at the moment to see who else is in the room, he just says, "Hi, Roxy. Sorry for the cockup with the scheduling for the next couple of weeks. Hope Tilde's okay."

"I'm not Roxy. I hope ye're not too disappointed." Merlin Adair is now standing next to Eggsy's mum, right in his line of sight.

"Mr. Adair?"

"Please, call me Merlin. We are, after all, friends." Merlin looks over at Eggsy's mum, who is still smiling, but also looking a bit puzzled.

"Yeah, okay. Friends." Eggsy doesn't have a clue about what's going on, why this man would be here. "Your cat okay?"

"Harry's fine, lad. Ye mum was kind enough to call me and let me come up for visiting hours."

Eggsy doesn't quite get the correlation between one thing and the other, but that's probably the drugs. "So, hi?"

Merlin smiles and it's the sweetest expression Eggsy's ever seen on anyone with a resting murder face. "Hi."

"Yeah, I certainly am. High that is. As a kite."

"Babe - " Michelle interrupts. "I hate to do this, but I just got another text from the airline, and my flight's now rescheduled for tonight. I need to get to the airport."

"'kay, mum." Eggsy feels a little bereft. This is the first time he's seen Michelle in years, and he's barely seen her - been mostly sleeping. "Give Daisy a kiss from her big bruv, tell her I love her. Love you, too."

Michelle goes to the head of the bed, bends down and give him a kiss. "Of course, babe. Love you, too - so very much. Wish I didn't have to go back so soon, but I can't leave Daisy with friends for so long, and work - "

"Yeah, don't worry. When I'm better, I'll come visit you."

Michelle smiles. "That'll be aces, babe. And I know you're in good hands."

From the way his mum looks at Merlin, Eggsy's pretty sure she's not referring to the doctors on his case. Michelle grabs her luggage and gives him one last look before leaving.

Eggsy wants to look away from Merlin, but it's awkward. He's in a neck brace and the man's standing there, filling his whole field of vision. And frankly, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling hurts to much. "How come you're here, really?"

"Because I've been worried about ye. I'd stopped by the clinic a few days after the accident, I'd wanted to know if ye'd like to have a coffee with me and they told me ye'd been hurt."

"A fox, a fucking fox was sitting in the middle of the road like it was the Queen sitting down for high tea. Didn't want to hit it, couldn't bear the thought. The roads were wet and my tyres were shite and that's what happened." Eggsy sniffs, hating the feeling of tears and snot rolling down his cheeks, but with both sides of his collarbone broken and pinned, he can't move his arms.

Merlin moves closer and reaches for something. Must be the box of tissues, because he's wiping Eggsy's face. "Thanks, but you don't have to do that."

"It was a deer."

Eggsy doesn't know why Merlin's correcting him, "No, it was a fox."

Merlin shakes his head. "Was talking about my accident. The one that took my leg. I was riding through the Great Park in Windsor, and I thought I saw a deer on the road. I swerved and lost control of my motorcycle. It landed on top of me, crushed my leg, messed me up inside. And like ye, I broke both my collarbones. Was in hospital for months, doctors said it should have been a lot worse. Should have ended up a cripple. So, I know what ye're going through, lad."

Eggsy tries to smile, but the tears are falling too fast and the pain is too great to pretend. "I don't know what's going to happen to me. Don't have no family here - mum's got a life on the other side of the world, my friends have their own lives. My best mate and her wife are going to have a baby soon, can't expect them to look after me, too. Docs say I'll need to go into residential rehab once I'm mobile. Won't be able to live on my own for a long time."

"And that scares the crap out of ye."

"Yeah, were you scared?"

"Aye. Terrified. Afraid of everything - the pain, the loneliness. I'd lost my leg, thought my life was over."

Eggsy doesn't hear any censure in Merlin's voice, but the desperately wants to clear up the misunderstanding from the last time they'd seen each other. "I wasn't disgusted by it. Not at all. Just shocked. I had no idea and I didn't know what to say. So I froze. I'm sorry."

"It's all right, lad. I'm sometimes too proud for my own good. Harry tells me I'm a bit too sensitive, especially about my leg."

"Your friend, Harry - the one who actually owns the cat named Harry? Your best mate." Eggsy really wishes he didn't feel like this for a man who already has a partner.

"Aye. Harry might be an ass about a lot of things, but he understands people. Hell, he understands me. Told me that ye probably weren't at all disgusted, that I was being a fool and an idiot and a moron."

"You talked about me?" Eggsy doesn't know how that makes him feel - weird, definitely.

"Harry had been back in town - a flying visit - and we'd gotten together for dinner. So I filled him in on Harry the Cat's trip around town, how he'd ended up at your clinic's door, and I guess Harry must have heard something in my tone. So I told him what happened at the gym."

"And that's when your boyfriend called you an idiot?" Oh god, the drugs have removed all of his filters.

Merlin is shocked at that. "Boyfriend? Harry's not my boyfriend."

"No? You said you loved him."

"Well I do, but not like that." Merlin leaves the foot of the bed and stands next to Eggsy, leaning over so they're face to face. "Ye thought Harry and I were together? Was that why ye were so cool to me the next day? Ye went from flirty to frozen and I didn't know why."

"Yeah." Eggsy swallows hard, Merlin's so close, the scent of his aftershave overwhelms the odor of the hospital. "I didn't want to poach or nothing."

Merlin's smile fills his field of vision. "I'm sorry about that - the misunderstanding. And ye wouldn't be poaching. Harry's my best mate, we've known each other since we'd been in public school. While once upon a time, I might have entertained the idea of a relationship with him, it had only been because there's something comforting about being with someone who knows ye so well."

Eggsy blinks. He understands that - he and his best friend, Jamal, had tried it once. The next morning they'd decided that it would be far better to remain friends. But sometimes, in the middle of the night, when Eggsy gets lonely, he wonders if they should have tried harder to make it work. But that's the past. Merlin's here and he's Eggsy's present. And maybe his future.

"So, you like me."

"Aye, very much, more than proper. Yer flirting kind of threw me. Didn't know what you'd want with a man twice yer age."

"Don't care about that. Your gorgeous and smart and fit as fuck. You love animals and your interesting to talk with. Wanted to ask you out, but lost my nerve. Then I kind of put two and two together and came up with forty-seven."

Merlin smile broadens. "Yer as bad at 'maths' as I am." He presses a soft kiss on Eggsy's forehead, and then one on his lips. "I should let ye rest."

As delighted as Eggsy is by Merlin's affections, he's exhausted. "Will you stay?"

"Of course. As long as ye want me to."

Eggsy closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath, relaxing as the drugs do their good work. Despite the pain, despite the hard road ahead, he's happy for the first time in such a very long time.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The cat prowls through the house, more than a little miffed about being left alone for so many hours. It's not that he doesn't have food or fresh water, nor is there any lack of amusements to keep him occupied. But tonight, not even the lovely empty box in the living room holds much appeal.

He could push over a few piles of books. That would feel very satisfying. And there's the stack of apples in a bowl on the island. It might be fun to send them rolling all over the place.

But the cat doesn't bother with the books or the apples. He sits on the window seat and licks himself, occasionally pausing to watch the cars go by. It's only when he catches a glimpse of something moving under the trees that the cat is shaken out of his ennui.

He jumps down from the seat and stretches, calling the magic to himself, and the cat becomes a man, well-dressed in tailored trousers, a crisp white shirt and a beige cardigan. It's one thing to be naked as an animal, but as a man, it's been eons since Harry has enjoyed being as the elder gods created him.

He opens the door and a fox rushes in, sniffs around, makes a bee-line for Harry's food and empties the bowl in a few swallows, then does the same with the water bowl. It sits back on its haunches, tail sweeping over the hardwood floor, and lets out a burp.

Harry's just slightly offended at the lack of manners. "James…"

The fox grins, an all too familiar expression, and the magic swirls about him. Where there had been a fox, there is now a man.

A naked man.

Harry closes his eyes and turns away. He doesn't need this from his brother-god. "James, clothes please."

James lets out a heavy, put-upon sigh. "All right. You can look now. Don't know when you got so prudish."

Harry turns back. James is in a garish chequered suit, looking just like the twat that he is. "Nice place." He picks up an apple and consumes it, core and all, with neat relish.

"You've been here before."

"You always make me sneak in through the cracks and go right into that damn carrier so you can get out and get 'home' before your mortal friend arrives. I've never gotten a chance to look around." James flips through a book and Harry snatches it out of his hand, returning it to the pile exactly how it had been.

"It's all part of the game."

"I'm getting bored, it needs to be my turn soon."

Harry rolls his eyes. "You hate being inside all the time."

James laughs. "Well, yes. And it's all your fault - if you hadn't gotten the humans to domesticate the cats and dogs, we'd still be in the forest and running free."

Harry just shakes his head. "You need to stop watching all of those nature programmes on the BBC. They don't know what they're talking about."

James disagrees as he lounges on Merlin's couch. "Don't know about that - the Attenborough fellow seems to be pretty clued in. It makes sense, bring the hunters to your fire, they protect the source of warmth and food, the relationship is set. Without the dogs to work the beasts, without the cats to control the vermin, civilization never rises."

Harry bristles a bit at the word "vermin" but he knows his brother-god is merely parroting the human "expert".

"It'll be a while longer. I'm rather attached to Merlin, he treats me very well."

"Running out on him wasn't a nice thing to do. I was watching from the shadows - it looked like the poor guy was heartbroken."

"I had to do _something_, he was pining for that pretty young thing. Had to get them together."

"Pining? Isn't that a stretch?"

"He was dreaming about the lad, and I needed to get them together."

"Why not develop a nasty cough? Or stop eating? There had to have been better ways to get yourself to the vet than running out into the cold night. You're such a creature of your comforts."

Harry shrugs. "I was in the mood for a bit of adventure. Besides, the urgency of the moment removed so many of the social barriers between them. Pity that the boy started throwing up roadblocks."

"But I took care of that." James is way to proud of himself.

"I wouldn't call nearly getting the boy killed your best work."

"I was just taking a page out of your book, what you did to Merlin."

"That was an accident. I never intended - "

"There are no accidents, brother. Not when the gods are involved."

Harry wants to continue the argument, but the sound of a key in the lock brings their conversation to a quick end. 

Between one moment and the next, Harry morphs back into a very regal, very ugly, and mostly naked cat. James disappears, becoming a tiny mouse who will find his way to freedom through a crack in the skirting board.

Harry runs to the front door to observe the proceedings. And offer his opinions.

"Take it easy, Eggsy."

"And here I was thinking this might be a good time to restart my parkour career."

Merlin's hovering near his young man, who's walking very slowly, but without assistance. Eggsy makes it to the couch and slowly lowers himself into the cushions. As a reward for his hard work, Harry leaps onto the boy, settling himself into a very pleasant lap. Gentle hands start stroking him and Harry can't help but purr in pleasure and happiness.

James may rule the liminal world, where the wild still makes its incursion into civilization, but Harry has, over the millennia, discovered the joys of hearth and home. 

Merlin sits down next to Eggsy and drapes an arm around his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted. They gave me a real workout today. But you heard what the doctor said. Another two weeks like this, with the same progress, and I'll be able to go back to work." Eggsy leans his head against Merlin's shoulder. "Love you."

"Love you, too." Merlin rubs his cheek against Eggsy's hair. Eggsy turns his head and kisses Merlin. Their joy in each other fills the room like a subtle perfume.

Harry, feeling a bit left out of the circle of affection, stands up, careful not to hurt his human, and puts his face between the two men, making it very clear that he deserves a kiss, too.

_FIN_


End file.
